


The World Below Is Not So Mean That It Can Make Us Fall

by embroiderama



Series: Redwing AU [4]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Anxiety, Christmas, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, New Years, Phobias, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is injured on the job, and Neal has to overcome some old demons in order to be there for him. Luckily, they both have good friends around to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Below Is Not So Mean That It Can Make Us Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my Peter/Neal AU [The Heart is Still a Redwing](http://embroiderama.livejournal.com/572175.html) and its timestamps, and may not make a great deal of sense out of context. Peter is a detective, and Neal is not a criminal, but they met when Neal was the victim of a violent crime. The title is from Hem's song "Redwing." Thank you to [](http://sahiya.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**sahiya**](http://sahiya.dreamwidth.org/) for the beta, though I added things afterward so...blame me. Thank you to [](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/)**angelita26** for helping me with Peter's present.
> 
> Warnings at the end, if you want.

The Christmas season was a complicated time for Neal in his work at Ellen's Place, a mixture of wonderful and awful with a lot of busy days in between. The hallways on the first floor were an explosion of green and red and white and gold, glitter and lights and foil and endless construction paper. The younger children who took art classes were almost uniformly excited about the holiday, even if most of their families had modest celebrations. They loved creating and hanging decorations, and Neal ran some extra weekend craft workshop classes to give the kids an opportunity to make presents for their parents. They were so proud to be able to take home gifts, and Neal shared that pride as he watched them go out the door with their presents hidden in paper bags.

Unfortunately, more than a few of the teenagers who took part in programs at Ellen's Place had a more difficult time with the holiday. Some of them were missing their families; even if they had left home for good reasons Christmas brought out memories of when things had been better for them. Other kids were angry at the religious aspect of the holiday or resentful of a world where so many people had more than they did, and Neal couldn't blame them for that. The heightened emotions led to some conflict among the teenagers as well as individual crises, and Neal spent a lot more time than usual talking to them.

No matter how much work it was to make it through the holiday season, Neal was glad to be able to do it. During the previous winter he'd still been recovering from his injury, and while he was well enough to get around he hadn't been able to work. The other staff and volunteers at Ellen's Place had done a heroic job of pulling things together but Neal had been left feeling guilty and strangely lonely without the bustle of kids and families around him. June had brought him to the Christmas Eve gathering that was held upstairs for the teens, and while some of the kids had seemed uncomfortable and avoided Neal, most of them had clearly been glad to see him. They were patient with Neal and his limitations at the time, and that had motivated him to push forward on his recovery and get back to work part time. He didn't regret it for a minute.

Peter was busy with work as well, and he was working over the holiday to cover for other detectives who needed to be home with their children. He had explained that he took those shifts every year and then used his holiday time to go have a belated Christmas with his family in January. Peter's mother spent Christmas with Peter's sister and her husband and children, and apparently everybody was content with the arrangement.

Thanksgiving with the Burke family had been somewhat surreal for Neal, in a good way. His mother's dining room had looked like something out of of a JC Penney Thanksgiving ad on TV, and his nieces had been loud and wild until their parents gently told them to settle down. It was nothing like the tense, perfunctory Thanksgiving dinners Neal had grown up with, but Peter seemed to take it for granted as normal. The whole family had been welcoming to Neal, and Peter's mother had been especially kind. His brother-in-law had seemed a little bit uncomfortable with the situation, but he was polite, not hostile. He had been trying, and Neal was fine with that.

Seeing pictures of Peter as a child, a teenager and a young man had been strange as well. There were so many pictures of him with his father--playing baseball, sitting on the couch watching TV, posing for a snapshot on a family vacation somewhere wooded--and even in the last photos where Peter's father had clearly been very sick Peter always looked happy, content and comfortable. Neal was so glad that Peter had that, and at the same time it made the hurt boy inside of him ache with jealousy. Peter had seemed to understand, though he didn't say anything. He drew Neal away from the wall of framed photos to go make out like teenagers in his old bedroom, and that was a distraction Neal enjoyed.

Christmas Day was a quiet time for Neal, with Peter at work and June celebrating with her family. Neal would join them for dinner, and June had told him he was welcome downstairs any time, but Neal prefered to let them have most of the day as family time. Plus, he was glad to have the day to relax, and when he got bored of that he spent some time working on sketches of some ideas that had been coming together in his mind. Late in the evening, Neal was lounging on the sofa with a book and a glass of wine when he heard a knock on his door and opened it to find Peter looking rumpled and sheepish.

"I know I should have called, but I was on my way home and my car just decided to come here instead."

"No, you're a good surprise." Neal let Peter in and they greeted each other with a lingering kiss, Peter's mouth tasting of coffee and peppermint. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, too." Peter got one of his beers from the fridge, and they walked over to the sofa to sit down together. "I, uh, I know we didn't talk about this but I got you something. It's nothing big." Peter pulled a small box out of his pocket and handed it to Neal, who carefully peeled open the heavy, textured gold paper to find a rectangular jewelry box with a tie bar inside. "It's, well, I know you probably don't need it but the stone there reminded me of you. And I had them engrave it."

Neal ran one finger over the pale blue stone set in white gold then turned the tie bar over to see the simple message _I love you_ engraved where only he would see it, where it would sit close to his heart. Neal's throat felt tight with emotion, and when he swallowed it down he looked up to see Peter shifting uncertainly. "Thank you," he said finally. "This is beautiful." He leaned over to kiss Peter then leaned further to open the drawer in the end table and pull out his own small wrapped present.

Neal held his breath as Peter unwrapped the gift, and relaxed when Peter smiled as soon as he saw what was inside. "Neal, where did you find this?"

"I know a guy who runs a used book store. I saw you had whole row of Nero Wolfe on your bookshelf, so--"

"Thank you, it's wonderful." Peter opened the book and paused at the inscription Neal had written inside the 1936 first edition. Peter closed his eyes and pressed his lips together then put the book aside and pulled Neal into his arms. "Thank you," he whispered in Neal's ear, and when they separated Peter shook off the sentimental mood. "So, I hope you don't have dinner plans for the day after tomorrow?"

"It sounds like I do now. What's going on?"

Peter grinned. "I made us a double date. I've set up El with a buddy of mine who works at the FBI. He's a good guy, and the relationship he was in broke up a little while ago. He's El's type and, well, she set me up so many times that I owe it to her for either repayment or revenge, depending on how it turns out."

"You look very pleased with yourself."

"I am! Honestly, I think they'd be a good match, and if this works out they both might have somebody to kiss on New Year's Eve."

"I know who I plan to kiss on New Year's Eve."

"Have I met him?"

Neal rolled his eyes and stood up just long enough to straddle Peter's legs and kneel on the sofa over Peter's lap. He tugged Peter's shirt up from where it was tucked into his pants and pushed it up slowly, his palms exploring the warm skin of Peter's chest as they kissed languorously. Peter pulled his shirt up over his head, and Neal could feel the heat of Peter's body through the thin cotton of his own t-shirt, but he crossed his arms and pulled his shirt off anyway. They kissed some more, skin to skin from the waist up, and Neal felt himself getting hard, but he wasn't in any hurry.

They broke apart, both needing to catch their breath, and Neal leaned into Peter, breathing against the side of Peter's face while Peter's breath teased at his ear and the small hairs near his temple. "You want to move this to the bed?" Peter asked, and Neal thought about saying no, saying that he just wanted to stay there necking on the couch all night, but he knew he wanted more. He wanted all of Peter's body at his disposal, all of his skin warm and bare and _his_.

"Sounds good." Neal stood, attempting to make the transition from kneeling over Peter's lap to standing on his feet a smooth one, but he stumbled and bumped into the coffee table, and Peter steadied him with two strong hands on his hips. Neal looked down at him and smiled softly. "Hmm, I like looking at you down there."

"Is this what you want tonight?" Peter unzipped Neal's khakis then grinned when he discovered the lack of underwear.

"Tempting, but what I really want is you inside me." Neal swayed his hips forward into Peter's hold. "On top of me." He pulled back a fraction and swayed forward again, holding Peter's gaze. "I want to watch you do it."

Peter stood up, keeping his eyes locked on Neal as rose to his full height, then pulled Neal's hips hard against his and kissed him again, still slow but not soft. This was a kiss that consumed, that claimed, and Neal gave himself over to it entirely. They kept kissing as they walked to the bed, and Neal was moving backward blindly but he trusted Peter to not let him fall. At the side of the bed, they pulled off the rest of their clothes, and Neal grabbed a condom and lube from his bedside table before sitting on the bed and scooting backward, shoving pillows where he wanted them.

He thought about asking Peter to skip the condom, but that was a discussion best saved for when they weren't naked and hard and clouded with lust. He trusted Peter absolutely but test results and official promises of exclusivity were a topic for a new day. A new year that was just a week away.

Neal laid back on the pillows and shifted his hips to give Peter better access, his legs wide open and waiting for Peter who was climbing up between Neal's knees with the bottle of lube in his hands. Neal closed his eyes while Peter opened him up with slick fingers, and they Peter knew him now, knew what Neal needed and what he didn't. When the finger's slipped away, Neal opened his eyes to see Peter rolling on the condom and looking at Neal with heavy-lidded eyes.

"What?" Neal reached up to traces his fingers over Peter's broad chest and along the lines of muscle on his arms.

"I just like looking at you, I guess."

"I want you to do more than look."

"Mmm-hmm, me too." Peter lined himself up between Neal's legs and pushed inside, a flash of heat that made Neal close his eyes for just a moment as he adjusted to having Peter inside him. Peter started to move in slow, shallow thrusts, and Neal wrapped his legs around Peter's back to pull him closer, deeper. His own cock was pressed between their bellies, moving in the slippery sweat of skin-on-skin.

They moved together slowly, neither of them in a hurry to get anyway, just letting time go in the rhythm they found together. Neal gasped at the delicate touch of Peter's tongue to the base of his throat, and he pushed back the sweat hair from Peter's forehead until Peter looked up to make eye contact. He didn't want to say the things he was feeling, afraid they'd sound insincere in the heat of the moment, but he thought Peter could read them in his eyes.

_I love you. I love you. I want to stay right here forever._

Peter nodded slowly and reached down to wrap a hand around Neal's cock, supporting his body with just one hand as he kept up the steady thrusts in and out. Neal arched his hips up into Peter's touch, into Peter's body, and the pace of their rhythm picked up, faster and harder until Neal was trembling on the edge of coming and he could see Peter was there too. Peter's eyes were squeezed closed as he held himself back with all of his strength until Neal prodded his back with his heels and whispered, "Let go."

Peter growled and thrust his hips hard against Neal's as Neal took over jacking himself--just right, just right--and they came in the same breath, shaking and gasping against each other's sweat-slick skin. Neal relaxed his legs, letting his calves slip down over Peter's ass to land on the bed, and Peter pressed his forehead into Neal's chest as he pulled himself together. Neal put his hand on the back of Peter's shoulder and pet the warm skin there until Peter nodded and knelt up, his soft cock slipping from inside Neal. Neal sighed and stretched lazily as Peter left the bed, and even with his eyes closed he could tell when Peter turned out the lights in the room.

Peter returned to the bed a moment later and tumbled back into Neal's arms. Neal opened his eyes, and everything had the soft-edged haze of the afterglow but the room was also bathed in the multicolored lights of the large Christmas tree June had set up on the terrace. "Merry Christmas," he murmured into Peter's ear, and Peter mumbled it back before his breathing slowed into sleep. Neal's thought, as he fell asleep, was that he couldn't think of any gift he wanted more than this.

~~~

Peter's gut feeling, when it came to matching up his friends, turned out to be incredibly accurate. They ate at a Japanese restaurant to give everybody a break from the heavy holiday foods they'd been indulging in, and Neal enjoyed watching Peter, El and Clinton Jones even more than he enjoyed his sushi. Peter, who normally would've been unhappy about the restaurant choice, didn't seem to mind at all. He ate his noodles with a satisfied smile as he watched El and Clinton flirt with each other shamelessly, and he actually rocked back on his heels with smug approval when they made a date for New Year's Eve before El got in a cab--alone.

It should have been annoying, but all Neal could think was that it was cute. Clinton Jones seemed like a decent guy, and he and El certainly had chemistry. He didn't know if it was the holiday cheer or just the mind-altering state of being in love with Peter, but he found himself hoping that they would get married and make beautiful babies. Peter would take credit for the whole thing, and he'd be insufferably proud. And happy. He deserved to be happy.

Peter went back to June's house with Neal after dinner, but he left for home before midnight. He was scheduled to work for the next few days, but they had plans for a quiet New Year's Eve together. Neal planned to put in some studio time when he wasn't busy with the kids, so he expected the last days of the year to pass quickly. They parted with a quick kiss and a promise from Peter to bring a really good bottle of champagne for New Year's Eve, and Neal went to bed alone but filled with optimism for where he and Peter might be by the end of the next year.

He could smell Peter's cologne on the pillow case as he drifted off to sleep.

~~~

Two days later, Neal was eating lunch in the social room upstairs along with half a dozen teens who ordinarily would have been in school and who didn't want to spend the whole day at home--in the various situations that constituted home for them. Neal had decided to treat them all to a couple of inexpensive pizzas and bottles of Coke, and that had improved the mood of the group by a good measure.

One of the girls, Olivia, suddenly perked up and smiled as she looked at the doorway behind Neal, and Neal turned around to see who the visitor might be. When he saw Diana there with her badge shining on her belt and her mouth set into a firm line, he scrambled to his feet, his stomach lurching with dread. "What--" Neal swallowed hard. He didn't know what to ask.

"Neal, can I speak with you out here?" Her voice was very serious as she glanced around at the kids and then looked back at Neal.

Neal just nodded and followed her out into the hallway. Her voice was very calm as she put her hand on Neal's arm. "Listen, I want you to come with me. Peter--he's been shot."

Neal shook his head, not wanting to understand. "Is he--"

"He's alive. Or he was when they put him in the ambulance."

Neal's head spun, but he couldn't give himself time for weakness. Ne needed to get to where Peter was. Now. "Take me there. Please." He followed Diana down the stairs, and she reminded him to get his coat from his office. As he sat next to Diana in the car, he realized that he hadn't said anything to the kids, hadn't said anything to anybody. With trembling fingers, he took out his phone and sent a message to Sara asking her to handle things for the rest of the day. He didn't know what else to do.

"Where--where was he shot?" Neal's voice sounded strangely low and hollow to him, and he felt like somebody else was asking the question, somebody outside of himself. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help imagining all of the horrible ways Peter could be injured--his head blown open, his spine torn apart, his heart shredded, blood everywhere, draining out of Peter into the ground. Neal felt sick, and he wrapped his arms around himself the best he could with the seatbelt on.

"Torso," Diana said, sounding as sick as Neal felt. "It went right through his vest. Another round hit him in the arm. I don't know if there was anything else."

"What about the person who--who did it?"

"We don't have him yet." Diana made a sound that was more a growl than a sigh. "It was a clusterfuck. I'm going back to the scene as soon as I drop you off at the hospital. I just didn't want you to have to hear this from somebody you don't know."

"Thanks."

"I don't know if he told you, but Peter added you to his emergency contacts so the doctors shouldn't have a problem talking to you. Hughes will call his mother but she can only get here so fast from upstate."

Neal regretted that Peter's mother would have to get the news that way, but he had to make Peter his priority here. The only important thing was whether or not Peter would be okay. If he wasn't, then Neal wouldn't be okay either and neither would Peter's mother. Neal thought of the little boy in all those pictures and squeezed his eyes closed.

"Hey, Neal?" Diana said a few minutes later. "We're almost there. I'm going to drop you at the ER entrance. They'll take care of you."

Neal inhaled deeply and nodded, pulling himself together by force. "I know. Thank you."

Diana dug in her pocket and handed Neal a card. "My cell number is on there. Call me when there's news?"

"Of course." She pulled up to the emergency entrance of the hospital, and Neal got out of the car, somehow surprised that his legs weren't shaking. "Be careful."

Diana nodded sharply then pulled the door closed and drove away. When he gave Peter's name at the intake desk, the woman behind the counter immediately knew who he was. "The cop, yeah. I'll show you to where the rest of them are."

 _The rest of who?_ Neal wanted to ask, but he had his answer a few seconds later. The woman in purple scrubs directed him into a waiting room full of cops. Some were in uniform, more were in plainclothes with badges displayed, some with NYPD hats or jackets. Neal felt his heart race, his body flushing with heat, and he leaned back against the wall feeling very small as the people around him warped and grew larger.

 _I can't,_ he thought, _I can't do this._ Then he thought of Peter hurt, dying maybe, and the thought changed to, _I have to._ He forced a deep breath down into his lungs and let it out slowly, and the room around him stabilized. His heart was still pounding but he took another breath then straightened his spine and raised his voice over the general commotion of the room. "Excuse me! Can anybody tell me how Peter is?"

An imposing-looking man pushed through a knot of people to stand in front of Neal. "You're Neal Caffrey?"

Neal's chest felt tight, but he nodded. "Yes. Can you tell me anything?"

"I'm Kyle Bancroft, Assistant Chief of Detective Burke's division. I'm sorry, we don't have any more information yet. The last we were told is that they're working to stabilize him."

 _So he's probably still alive._ "Thank you."

Bancroft looked Neal up and down, his sharp eyes assessing him. "Come on son, let's get you a seat." He put his hand on Neal's back and steered him through the crowd. "Somebody get a coffee. You drink coffee, Neal?"

Neal nodded and let Bancroft lead him to a chair against the wall. A moment later somebody put a paper cup of coffee in front of Neal's face and he accepted it. The coffee was bitter, halfway burned and nothing like June's Italian roast, but Neal sipped at it while he waited for somebody to show up and tell him if Peter had died. As he started to look around the room, Neal realized that while he was getting the occasional hostile or dismissive glance, he was getting far more supportive looks and the space around him felt like deference, not avoidance.

Diana had said 'They'll take care of you,' and Neal had assumed she meant the hospital staff, but he was starting to get the idea that she meant her coworkers. It was an alien idea, that the police department in general would be on Neal's side. He was aware of the idea that within the law enforcement community spouses and significant others were considered part of the "family," but Neal only had one frame of reference for what it was like to be in that family, and it wasn't good.

But now he had cops and detectives bringing him coffee, and it was the one positive thing he could hold onto in the middle of the awful wait for news on Peter. After a while, Neal heard the door open and a small voice say, "Excuse me." The girl standing in the doorway was clearly not a doctor, but Neal felt his mouth go dry at the thought that she might have some news. "Can somebody accept Mr. Burke's personal belongings?"

Neal raised his hand. "I'll take them." One of the detectives standing near the door reached for the bag, and it was passed hand to hand until it reached Neal. He held the bag and sat looking at it, but he wouldn't open it. Not yet. Not when he didn't know what was going on with Peter. For now it was just a weight in his hands, something to hold.

When the door opened again and a woman in a white doctor's coat walked inside, Neal stood up so fast that he thought he would fall over. The crowd parted to let the doctor through, and she looked down at the chart in her hand then back up at Neal.

"Mr. Caffrey?" At Neal's nod she introduced herself. "I'm Dr. Turman, and I'm a trauma specialist. We can talk in private if you prefer."

Neal knew he'd have to pass on whatever news he got, so he just shook his head. "No. Just please tell me what's going on with Peter." Out of the corner of his eye, Neal saw Bancroft move in closer to hear the doctor's response.

"Right now, Detective Burke is on his way up to surgery. He sustained a punctured lung and most likely some other internal damage from the gunshot wound to his chest. A second bullet hit his upper arm, and he will probably need orthopedic surgery to repair damage to the bone, but the most important thing right now is to make sure we find and stop any internal bleeding. The good news is that there's no evidence of a head injury, and Detective Burke appears to be fit and in good health. That's going to help him here."

Neal's head was spinning, but he tried to make sure he was catching every detail. "Do you think he's going to be okay?"

"I think his chances are good. His condition is critical, and the first hurdle is for him to make it through surgery. After that, he'll be in the ICU. There's always a chance of complications, but it's my opinion that if he makes it through the first 24 hours after surgery then his chances of recovery will be very good."

"Okay. Okay. How long will it be until I can see Peter?"

The doctor raised her eyebrows. "He's going to be in surgery for at least a few hours, and then he'll be in recovery. Once he's settled into a bed in ICU you can see him for a few minutes. If you want to go home--"

"No. Where should I wait?"

"You can go up to the surgical waiting room on the fifth floor. The surgeon operating on Detective Burke will look for you there once he's been moved to recovery."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, doctor," Bancroft added, and the doctor nodded at both of them before leaving.

Neal sank back down in his seat and shuddered at the thought of Peter being unconscious, being cut open, but the only other possibility was far worse. After a few minutes, somebody sat down one chair over from Neal and he looked up to see that the crowd in the room had thinned out considerably and that Bancroft was looking at him steadily.

"I'm going to keep a few uniformed officers here to keep an eye on the situation, especially considering that the shooter is still out there. Some others may wait and I know others will come later, but most need to get back to work. I have to go make my report to the Chief, but if you need anything call me and I'll have it taken care of. If I don't answer, the call will go to my assistant, and she knows what to do."

Neal accepted the card Bancroft held out and put it in his pocket next to the one Diana had given him. "Thank you." Neal felt like he was saying that a lot, but he didn't know what else to say, what else to do.

Neal made his way to the surgical waiting room, stopping to call Diana on the way. He got her voicemail and left a message with the information he had on Peter's status; he hoped that the reason she didn't answer was that she was in the middle of arresting whoever had shot Peter. Neal nodded at the uniformed cops who were standing outside the doors and got the woman behind the desk to let him through to the waiting room. It was a relief to be in a room with just a few other people, none of whom appeared to be with the police department.

After he chose a quiet corner to sit in, Neal pulled out his phone and checked in with Sara by text. It was hard to care about anything other than Peter, but Ellen's Place was his responsibility, and he needed to know that somebody would close up properly and make sure the kids were okay. When Neal couldn't think of anything else he needed to be taking care of, he carefully opened the small bag of Peter's belongings. His badge and weapon weren't in there but of course Diana or Bancroft or somebody would have taken possession of those, maybe even before Peter was put in the ambulance. Peter's clothes weren't in there either, and Neal couldn't help imagining them being cut off and thrown away, soaked in blood and torn by bullets.

A shiver went through Neal and he picked up Peter's watch, held it until the cold metal turned warm in his hand. Peter's wallet was in the bag, but Neal didn't want to open that unless he needed to. Other than the watch, the wallet and Peter's phone, there wasn't much in the bag. Neal took out the items one by one: Peter's keys on a Yankees key ring, a receipt from a coffee shop, reading glasses in a slim case, and ninety-five cents in change. Neal put the wallet and keys in his own pockets to make sure they were secure then put everything other than the phone back in the bag.

Neal hesitated before turning on the phone because he didn't want to be the kind of person who snooped in his boyfriend's phone, but this wasn't snooping. He didn't have any other means of getting Peter's mother's number, and he felt like he had to call her. He didn't have much information to give her, but in her position he would want to talk to somebody who was there waiting, just for that tenuous connection.

When Neal turned on the phone, he was startled to find a picture of himself on the lock screen. He remembered Peter taking the picture one morning when they were having coffee out on the terrace at June's. His hair had been blown around by the breeze and he was wearing a bathrobe over his pajamas, but he'd been happy. Neal could see that happiness in his own face, and it made his eyes sting with tears that Peter chose that picture to see every time he unlocked his phone. Neal took a deep breath through his nose to push back the tears and opened the contacts to find the entry for "mom."

When he had the number entered into his own phone contacts, Neal took note of the "no phone calls please" signs on the walls and went out into the hallway. The two uniformed cops were still there, and Neal walked down to where he thought he could get some privacy before dialing. He hoped that she would answer the call from an unknown number.

"Hello?" She sounded as stressed as Neal felt, and he wished he had information that would make her feel better.

"Mrs. Burke, this is Neal Caffrey."

"Neal! Oh my goodness, thank you for calling. Do you know--has something--"

"Peter's in surgery but I haven't heard anything else. They told me that it would be hours so I think that no news is good news at this point."

"Okay." Neal could hear her breathing unevenly. "Okay. Thank God."

"Mrs. Burke, do you have plans yet for traveling?"

She sighed. "Dear, I told you to call me Sue. And yes, Paul is going to pick me up as soon as he can get away from work. He can't stay in the city, and Cindy needs to stay with the kids unless-- Unless. But Paul will drive me down this evening. Can I call you at this number to find out where to go once I get to the hospital?"

"Call me when you're almost here and I'll come down to meet you."

"Oh, thank you."

"And Mrs.--Sue, I live in part of a very large house. I know that my landlady, my friend June, would be happy to give you a guest room to stay in. You could stay at Peter's apartment, but I know that Peter would feel better about you not being alone." At the mention of Peter's apartment, Neal realized that he needed to call El as soon as he got off the phone with Sue.

"I don't want to put anybody out."

"You wouldn't be, I promise. It's closer to the hospital as well."

"Okay then. Thank you, Neal. Now, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's just a matter of waiting right now."

"I understand. You'll call me if there's any news? Anything?"

"Of course. And you can call me any time. If I don't answer, I'll call right back."

"Thank you. I'll see you this evening. And if you get to see Peter please give him my love."

"I will." Neal hung up and leaned back against the wall. He didn't want to make another call, but he needed to get it done. El, at least, was in Neal's phone, and he didn't know if he wanted her to answer or not.

"Hi there," she answered, sounding horribly upbeat. She had a shiny new romance in her life; he couldn't blame her.

"Peter's been hurt," Neal said. There was no gentle way to start the conversation.

El gasped. "What? What happened?"

"He--he was shot. He's in surgery at Lennox Hill."

"Oh my God. Oh my God." Neal could hear the tears in her voice, and he closed his eyes. "Okay, I'm on my way."

"I should be in the fifth floor surgical waiting room."

"Thanks, Neal," she said, then hung up.

Neal took a deep breath and called June, but he got her voicemail. "Hi, June, it's Neal. I'm okay, but Peter. Uh, Peter got hurt on the job, and I'm at Lennox Hill. His mother is coming into town this evening, and I told her that there would be a room for her in your house. I apologize for not asking first, but I'll get her a hotel room if I need to. If you could just let me know, I would appreciate it. Thank you, June."

Neal couldn't think of anybody else he needed to call, so he made a quick stop in the men's room then went back to the waiting room. When he looked at his watch he was surprised to see that it was only 3pm. He had a feeling the long day had barely begun. Neal didn't think he could concentrate well enough to read so he just sat and tried to find his center, the calm place where he could always be okay. The problem with that was that in the last several months Peter had become a part of that calm place, an important part of Neal being okay.

He thought about the first time they'd kissed, in the foyer of June's house when nobody else was around. It had been just a kiss, but the connection that had already been forming between them turned into a magnetic force drawing Neal to Peter just from that one touch of lips to lips. The first time they made love came next, fast and hot and more satisfying than Neal had imagined it would ever be. That thought led to the thought of Peter's body--his strong, wonderful body being shot and then cut open--and Neal mentally reeled away.

Safer was the memory of the first time Peter said, "I love you." It had been an ordinary day, and Peter had been able to meet Neal for lunch. Neal had been talking about something, one of his projects at Ellen's Place, and when he'd noticed Peter watching him with an odd look on his face he'd stopped.

"What? Am I babbling?"

"Maybe," Peter said, but then he smiled and reached out for Neal's hand. "But I was just sitting here and all I could think about was how much I love you. I'm sorry, I--"

"Don't apologize," Neal said, feeling happiness flush through him like a fever. "I love you too. I didn't know when was the right time to say it. It's never been right when I said it before."

"For me, when it comes to you, any time is right."

It was a little bit corny, but it was Peter and it was honest. Neal wasn't sure if anybody had ever loved him the way Peter did. His mother had loved him, but not enough to protect him from his father and not enough to do whatever was necessary to get him away. Ellen had loved him, and she had probably saved his life. She certainly helped him make his life what it was, but she'd had other kids like him over the years, and he didn't think it was the same. June loved him but she had her children and her grandchildren and her memories of Byron.

Peter knew almost everything there was to know about Neal. He had seen Neal at very close to his worst and had never offered anything but concern and love. Neal didn't think he would ever find that again, if he lost it there in the hospital.

Neal was trying to distract himself by thinking about things he needed to do at work when the door to the waiting room opened, and he looked up to see El coming through the door looking uncharacteristically flustered.

"Elizabeth!" Neal got up to meet her, and she fell into the hug Neal hadn't even realized he was offering. She clung tighter, and Neal put his arms around her and squeezed back. "Hey, it's okay. I haven't heard anything, and that's good right now."

El sniffled deeply then pulled back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry all over your sweater."

"That's honestly the last thing I'm worried about right now." Neal led El over to where he'd been sitting and brought over a box of tissues from a nearby table.

El nodded and wiped her face. "What happened? Do you know?"

"Nobody would tell me what exactly happened, though I'm not sure I asked, actually. But he was shot twice. Once in the chest and once in the arm." Neal felt calmer now, telling El what had happened instead of hearing it himself.

"Oh my God." El put her hands over her face then pushed her hair back. "Where's his partner? Diana?"

"Last I know, she was trying to bring in whoever shot him."

The look on El's face was vicious then, just for a moment. "Good. I hope she hurts him at least as bad as he hurt Peter."

Neal didn't want that, but he didn't want to argue. "I just hope the shooter can be caught without Diana or any of the others getting hurt."

El nodded. "How bad is it?"

"The doctor said a lot of things, and it all sounded like it was bad, really bad, but it could have been worse. He doesn't have a head injury."

"Oh, God. I mean, that's good. I mean--"

"I know. She said that if he makes it through the surgery and then through the next day he'll probably recover."

"Okay. I want to wait with you until he gets out of surgery. Is that okay?"

Neal was startled by the question. "That's not up to me, but of course. You've been close to Peter for a long time."

"But you're the main person in Peter's life now, and you know it. All the guys I set Peter up with, I don't think he was interested in any of them. I was starting to think that maybe he was asexual instead of gay, you know?"

Neal really couldn't imagine Peter, the man who made love the way he did, being asexual, but he understood what El meant. "I don't know how I ended up being the guy he wants to be with, but I'm really glad that I am."

El squeezed his arm. "Me too, because you make Peter happy. And because you're a good friend, too and I'm glad I got to meet you. I just wish I could have met you first and then set the two of you up so that I could take credit for it." She laughed, and even if it turned watery at the end Neal was still relieved to have somebody there to draw him out of his downward spiral.

The two of them sat together in relative quiet then until the waiting room door opened, and this time Diana came through, looking exhausted but satisfied. She sat down next to Neal and said, "We got him. He's on his way to Riker's and he's not getting out. I can promise you that."

Neal closed his eyes relieved and heard El whisper, "Did you hurt him?"

"Not enough," Diana replied. "But he shot a cop. His life is going to suck from here on out."

"Thank you for catching the guy." Neal looked over at Diana and hoped she understood his gratitude. "And I'm glad he didn't get you, too."

"Yeah, well--" Diana seemed about to say more, but she just shook her head. "Have you heard anything more about Peter?"

"Nothing. It could still be hours. I don't know."

"Okay, well, I'm going to wait but first I'm going to get something to drink. Neal, what do you want?"

"Nothing, thanks."

"Mmmkay. I'll be back in a few."

Neal watched her leave then leaned his head back against the wall. He was starting to get a headache, but it didn't feel like it had anything to do with the lingering--and thankfully ever-lessening--headaches from his injury and surgery. It felt like an ordinary headache from tension and worry and too many emotions, and he didn't have time to focus on how he felt when Peter was down the hall somewhere in surgery.

"Are you doing okay?" The question was tentative, and Neal had a feeling that El wasn't sure how much she was supposed to know about Neal's issues.

"Yeah." Neal opened his eyes and gave her the best smile he could manage. "You know, it's not a secret that Peter tells you things. You're his best friend, I get it."

El blushed a little then nodded. "I didn't want to make you feel weird."

"It would take more than Peter telling you things I know he worries about to make me feel weird. Don't worry about it."

Diana returned before the conversation could get more awkward, and she pushed a cup of coffee and a bag of pretzels into Neal's hands. "Thank you but I'm really not hungry."

"I get that, but it's dinner time and it looked like you had just started to eat lunch when I got there this afternoon. I want you to be here for Peter, so I can't let you burn yourself out. It's pretty simple."

"I'll do my best." Neal sighed and took a sip of the coffee, which turned out to be peppermint tea. Apparently Diana knew that Neal was supposed to go easy on caffeine, but as with Elizabeth Neal understood that Peter was close to his partner. Neal ate a few of the pretzels then set them aside; his stomach was far too tense for food, and he wasn't going to starve in one evening. After another endless stretch of waiting, Neal's phone buzzed with a call from June and he went into the hallway to take it.

"Hi, June. Thank you for calling me back."

"Forget about that. Darling, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'll be better when I know that Peter's come through his surgery."

"No news then?"

"Nothing. About Peter's mother--"

"Of course that's fine. I'm going to call and have the guest suite on the second floor opened up for Mrs. Burke."

"Thank you. That's perfect."

"It's nothing. Now, tell me the truth. The girls will be unhappy if I leave, but if you need me I will be there. I don't want you to be waiting all alone."

"I'm not alone. Peter's friend Elizabeth and his partner Diana are here with me, and some police officers are around as well. Please don't leave your family on my account."

"Promise me that you'll call if you need me." It wasn't a request. It was a demand, June's voice taking on that tone of velvet covered steel.

"I promise. Thank you again."

Neal hung up and looked at the time; Peter had been in surgery for more than three hours. He had told June the truth, that he didn't need her there, and he was determined not to pull her away from her family during the holidays. And yet, it would have been good to have her there. Diana and El were good people and Neal considered them friends, but they were _Peter's_ partner and _Peter's_ best friend. Soon Peter's mother would be there, and once again Neal felt a twinge of jealousy for the relationships Peter had.

Neal knew a lot of people, had a lot of casual friends, but June was the only person aside from Peter that he could really depend on. June had offered him a home when he'd been heartbroken and struggling to find somewhere to live after his last relationship ended. June had been at his side as he recovered from his injuries, and without her he would have been alone in some rehab facility. If Ellen were still alive, Neal knew she would have been there. She would have put her arm around him and kept him from giving in to despair. But Ellen was dead, and the thought of possibly losing Peter made that wound feel fresh and raw.

Neal pushed down that pain and went back to the waiting room. He reminded himself that this wasn't about him, it was about Peter. Everything else would take care of itself.

~~~

Neal eventually stopped paying attention to the opening and closing of the waiting room door. People waiting for news about other patients came and went and as shifts ended various members of the police department came in to check in with Diana. Some stayed for a while, some took the time to say something to Neal, but he was too focused on the passing time to take note of their names or faces. When El nudged his shoulder, Neal looked up, startled.

"What?"

"I think that doctor is looking for you."

Neal looked over at the door and saw a tall middle-aged man standing there in surgical scrubs, his face inscrutable. After waiting for so long, Neal was suddenly unsure if he wanted to know what had happened. Nonetheless, he stood, and the doctor walked over. "Family of Peter Burke?"

"That's us." Neal gestured at El and Diana, who were standing as well. "His mother is on her way from upstate. We're all on his contact list."

The doctor looked at them all then nodded. "Okay, I'm Dr. Rostami, and I'm a thoracic surgeon. Let's sit down." The doctor dragged a chair over to where he could sit right in front of them and Neal reluctantly sat back down.

Neal couldn't contain his need to know. "How is Peter? Is he--"

"He's in recovery right now, and when a bed is ready he'll be transferred to the ICU."

"So the surgery went okay?" Diana asked.

"The bullet wound to Peter's chest caused somewhat more damage than we had initially expected. His right lung was perforated and collapsed, and it also lacerated his liver and fractured ribs, both in the front and in the back. When he fell, the broken rib caused some damage to his right kidney."

Neal heard El gasp and he felt his heart pounding sickly in his chest. "Will he be okay?" Neal could barely hear his own whispered voice over the pounding in his ears.

The doctor didn't answer immediately. "Peter's condition is very serious. He lost a lot of blood and arrested once during surgery, but we were able to get him back quickly enough that I don't believe there should be any damage from lack of oxygen. His heart is undamaged and strong, and we were able to stop all of the internal bleeding and re-inflate his lung. He is currently on a ventilator to help him breathe, and we'll be keeping him sedated for at least the next day."

Neal didn't know what to say. El had her hands over her mouth, and Diana looked more shaken than Neal had imagined she could be. "What about his arm?" Diana asked.

"We stabilized Peter's arm, but he's going to need surgery to repair the bone and muscle damage. An orthopedic surgeon will evaluate his condition, and assuming his vitals improve he'll likely have that procedure within the next two days."

Neal nodded. "Can I see him?"

"You'll be able to see Peter once he's been transferred to the ICU, but that's going to be at least another hour, possibly two. You should consider going home."

"That's not happening." Neal sat back and took a deeper breath. "Where should I wait? Here?"

"If you're going to stay, you should go up to the ICU waiting room on the eighth floor. The staff will look for you there when they're ready to let you go back." The doctor stood, and Neal stood as well to shake his hand.

"Thank you."

The doctor nodded. "I'll be checking on Peter over the next few days, and the ICU will page me or somebody on my service if anything goes wrong. Now, if you'll excuse me I have another patient waiting for me." The doctor quickly shook hands with Diana and El, then left the room. The three of them stood looking at each other for a long moment.

"You two can go home if you want."

"Nobody's leaving you here alone right now." Diana's tone brooked no argument. "I'm going to stay as long as I can, and somebody else from the department will be here when I have to go."

"I'm staying for now, but I--" El bit her lip, looking more upset than she had before. "I want to stay, but I have to go to work tomorrow. Everybody else is on vacation out of town, and there's really no other choice. I'm so sorry!"

Neal put his hand on her arm. "It's not your fault. It's okay. Why don't you go home after Peter's mother gets here?"

"O-okay. That makes sense."

The three of them took the elevator up and settled into the ICU waiting room. After he called Peter's mother to pass on the news, Neal's panic finally receded enough to let boredom in, and he worked his way through two and a half issues of National Geographic before a nurse came looking for Peter's family.

"Right now, we're limiting visitation to one person at a time for five minutes every hour because of the level of care he needs, but I expect that to be relaxed after the doctors do rounds tomorrow morning."

Neal swallowed hard and nodded then turned to look at Diana and El. "Do you two mind if I--"

"Go," they said in sync.

Neal went. He followed the nurse through a heavy door then down a hallway lines by small rooms and finally through the open doorway to Peter's room. There was a tube going down Peter's throat, and Neal felt like he was the one choking. "I'll give you a few minutes to visit," the nurse said, and then Neal was alone. He approached the bed tentatively, as if it were the edge of a cliff, then grabbed onto the side of the bed and stood looking at Peter.

His eyes were closed, his face lax around the tube, and his feet were nearly sticking off the end of the bed. In between, Peter was covered in blankets but his left arm was laid out on top, splinted and bandaged and resting on a pillow. IVs, one of them carrying dark red blood, were attached to his uninjured arm and a couple of tubes trailed out from under the blankets. Neal walked around to Peter's right side and moved the covers just enough to hold Peter's hand cradled between his own.

"I love you," he said, though he didn't think Peter would be able to hear. "And your mom loves you too. She'll be here soon so just--just be here, okay?" Neal squeezed his fingers around Peter's then looked up when he heard the nurse enter in the room. "Is there any chance you'd let me stay? I won't cause any trouble." Neal tried his best to give her a charming smile, but he suspected it was missing most of its usual sparkle.

"I'm sorry. If you want to go on home you'll be able to see him more in the morning."

"No, I'm going to stay. And his mother is traveling in."

"You're welcome to stay in the waiting area as long as you like, and we'll allow short visits through the night."

"Okay." Neal let go of Peter's hand slowly and tucked it back under the covers. Feeling shaky now that he wasn't holding it together for Peter, he walked back to the waiting room and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands even though he knew Diana and El were hovering, waiting for news. Neal breathed into his hands until he felt steadier then sat up and saw the two women watching him with worried eyes. "Sorry, it was just hard to see Peter that way."

El perched on the seat next to him. "He wasn't worse?"

"No." Neal didn't want to think about worse. "He's just hooked up to a lot of things and unconscious. It's bad."

"That's what he needs right now, so it's not all bad." Diana went over to look out the window then came back. "I'm going to take a walk. I'll be back shortly."

"Sure." Neal sat back and concentrated on not letting himself think the worst, and when Diana came back she had decaf lattes for all of them. Neal sipped at it slowly, appreciating the warm, steadying sweetness of it. When his phone rang with a call from Mrs. Burke, he was startled to find that enough time had passed for the dregs of the latte to go cold. "Sue?"

"Paul is pulling up the main entrance right now. Do you know where to find me?"

"I'll figure it out. I'll be right there."

"I can go meet her if you want to stay here," Diana volunteered.

"No. She knows me, and I could use the walk. If the nurse comes back out for another visitor--"

"We'll ask her to wait for Peter's mother," El said. "Of course."

"Thank you." Neal followed the signs to the elevator and then to the main entrance, where he found Peter's mother standing with a tiny rolling carry-on bag. "Sue!"

She looked up at Neal and hurried over to meet him then pulled him into a tight hug. "Oh, Neal. Has anything else happened?"

Neal pulled away, took her suitcase and began to lead her to the bank of elevators. "He's the same. I did get to see him, and you should be able to go back and see him for a few minutes soon."

"How did he look?"

"He looked--" _horrible_. Neal didn't want to say it, but Sue must have read it in his face because she looked more upset than she had before. "They're taking good care of him."

Sue just nodded in response. When they entered the waiting room, the nurse was talking to Diana and El. "Oh! Is this Mrs. Burke?"

"Yes, that's me." Sue seemed flustered for a moment as she took off her purse and coat with shaking hands.

"You can come back now if you're ready."

"Already? Of course."

~~~

Within the next hour, Elizabeth went home after staying long enough to meet Sue, and Neal expected that it would just be himself and whichever police officer drew the short straw once Diana left. To his surprise, Captain Hughes arrived to take Diana's place and announced that he would be staying overnight. After speaking to Sue for a while, he asked Neal to follow him into the hallway.

"You doing okay here?"

"Yes, I'm okay."

Hughes raised an eyebrow then shrugged. "Listen, Mrs. Burke said that she's staying with you?"

"In the house where I have an apartment, yes. It's not that far from here."

"Good. I want you to let Mrs. Burke have the next visit with Peter, then I'm going to have somebody give the two of you a ride home."

 _Absolutely not._ "No, I'm staying the night."

"Let me finish. Peter wouldn't want his mother spending the night in a hospital waiting room--it's too much. Go with her, get her settled in, get anything you need from home, and you can be back here in time for the next visit."

Neal looked back at the waiting room door and sighed. He really didn't want to leave, but Hughes had a point. "You'll call if anything happens while I'm gone?"

"Give me your number, and I'll call."

Neal exchanged numbers with Hughes and went back in the room to share the plan with Sue. She accepted it more readily than Neal thought she would, and Neal took that as evidence that Hughes was right about her not being up to spending all night in a waiting room. Neal hated being so close to Peter and not being able to see him, but he couldn't argue with Sue's right to see her son. Hughes promised to stay in the waiting room while Neal was gone, and with her suitcase in tow Sue and Neal left to go meet their ride at the front entrance.

Neal stopped, stunned, when he saw that their ride was a police cruiser. Sue put a hand on his arm "Did you forget something upstairs?"  
  
"No, it's fine," Neal said, sounding distant to himself. The officer assigned to drive them was a young woman with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she was polite and friendly as she saw Sue into the front passenger seat then gave Neal an apologetic smile as she directed him into the back seat. Neal really didn't want to get inside, but he also didn't want to delay things or embarrass himself. He took a deep breath, reminded himself that this wasn't about him, and got inside. He couldn't help jerking when the door closed but he settled back in the seat and tried to look like he wasn't freaking out.   
  
Neal had been 18 years old the last time he was in a police cruiser. He'd been arrested for stealing a book, and he spent the ride sick with fear, truly convinced that his life was in danger, that at the very least he was headed for a world of pain. That hadn't happened; he couldn't remember his day and a half in jail very clearly, but what he could remember was boredom, some mild harassment and intervals of being shuffled from one place to another.   
  
No matter how much he loved Peter and no matter that Neal's interactions with the police as an adult had only varied between positive, indifferent and mildly annoying, part of him was still a kid cowering from his father's nightstick. He thought that part of him always would be, and it felt like failure. Neal held himself together through the ride, occasionally contributing to Sue's conversation with the young officer driving them, and finally they arrived in front of June's house. The officer--Kaplan, as Neal read on her name badge--promised to be waiting for Neal's return.  
  
Neal saw Sue into the house and got a few honest smiles out of her awed response to the mansion. June's maid Natalia, who had clearly been called in to duty from being off for the week, took them to the guest suite, which had its own bathroom and TV. Neal ran up the stairs to his own suite and stuffed his travel toiletries kit, a fleece jacket, the book he'd been reading at night, his phone charger and his tablet into a bag then jogged back down to check in with Sue. She seemed pleased with the accommodations and relieved to be settled for the evening, so Neal promised to call if anything changed with Peter. He hurried back outside only to momentarily freeze up again when he went to get in the car. Climbing into the front passenger seat rather than the back gave him a measure of relief, but he still hated it. If he weren't worried about the extra time it would take to get back to the hospital Neal would have taken a cab instead.  
  
Neal spent the drive focusing on the dark street outside the windows and reminding himself that Officer Kaplan had been assigned to drive him around, that she didn't act threatening in any way, that she was about twenty-five years old and 120 lbs. and that he was a grown man. For Neal to be frightened of her or her vehicle was ridiculous.  
  
By the time she dropped him off in front of the hospital Neal had almost convinced himself of that.  
  
~~~  
  
Neal stopped in the men's room to make sure he didn't look like he was as on-edge as he felt and then picked up a regular coffee because he was going to need to be awake for a while. Plus, there was nobody around likely to give him the fish-eye over the caffeine. Once he arrived back in the waiting room, Neal didn't have to wait long before he was allowed back to see Peter again. Peter looked the same, just as awful as he had before, but Neal tried to hold on to the fact that Peter didn't look worse. As far as he understood, stable was good right then. It was still less than twelve hours since Peter had been shot, and he was still alive.  
  
The nurse let Neal have a little bit more time, closer to ten minutes, and Neal spent most of it holding Peter's hand, trying to feel the latent strength there, and petting his fingers over Peter's hair, brushing it back from the sticky pads on his forehead. He was grateful that all the intelligence and kindness that made Peter who he was remained unharmed inside Peter's brain, but if his lungs and all those other so-fragile organs didn't work then it wouldn't really matter how good Peter was at solving cases or loving people.  
  
When the nurse came to chase him out, in her polite way, Neal chanced a kiss to Peter's temple before he left. In the waiting room, Hughes was sitting with his legs crossed reading a paperback book, the same as he'd been when Neal left, and he looked like he'd be content to stay like that all night. Neal wished he could possess that kind of serenity, but he had a feeling that Hughes's skill had been well-earned. Neal put his phone on to charge, connected his tablet to the hospital's wifi, and settled in to research Peter's injuries as much as he could from his memory of what the doctors had said. The next time he talked to them he would take notes, but for the meanwhile he could at least become more familiar with the basics while he drank his coffee and waited to be able to see Peter again.  
  
The next visit was delayed while the night shift nurses took over from the evening shift, and when Neal did get to go back Peter's new nurse wasn't as accommodating when it came to letting Neal stay longer. Neal had a feeling she would have been more willing to give leeway Peter's mother or his wife, but she didn't say anything and Neal didn't argue. Five minutes was better than nothing.  
  
Back in the waiting room, Neal stretched out sideways over a row of padded seats with his back against the wall. He checked his email, sent a group message to the Ellen's Place group letting them know his status, then pulled out his book and started reading. Hughes was still plugging away on his own book a few yards away, and Neal didn't want to spend the night driving him and the other unfortunate people in the waiting room crazy by moving around too much.  
  
The book was good, if not particularly exciting, and Neal did his best to lose himself in the narrative. It never occurred to him that there was a reason he kept that book next to his bed. The book was well-written but despite the cup of coffee he was exhausted and something about the cadence of the prose carried him smoothly into sleep.  
  
 _Run. Run. He had to run.  
  
Neal's heart pounded and he wasn't sure where he was but he knew that if he didn't keep running he would regret it. If he didn't keep running, he was going to die.  
  
He tripped over something and fell. The falling seemed to last forever but as soon as he landed somebody picked him up and pushed him back against something that rattled ominously. He knew where he was then--behind the garage, the one with the rusty metal door, that belonged to the neighbor at the end of the street. His father had caught him. Neal could smell the smoke on his breath, and when he opened his eyes it was pitch black night but he saw the silver of his father's badge glittering.  
  
Neal tried to pull away and run but then he was in the back of his father's police car, handcuffs biting into his wrists and his shoulders burning from how far back they'd been pulled. The seats smelled like sweat and grease, and there was nothing Neal could do to protect himself from the fist that hit him in the belly. Hard. Twice.  
  
He couldn't breathe and he couldn't see and he was going to die right there. He was going to--_  
  
Neal gasped and jerked away from he-didn't-know-what, smacking his head against the wall. He thought that he couldn't breathe, but he was--too fast, too hard, though he couldn't slow it down. He wasn't sure where he was, and that couldn't mean anything good.  
  
"You okay over there?"  
  
Neal looked up and saw Peter's captain standing up, and then understood where he was, what had happened, but then he saw the badge glittering on his belt, Hughes looming over him like an elongated shadow. Neal closed his eyes but his stomach churned and ached; he was going to be sick. Neal stood up, and there was a loud noise that sounded like a fist punching a wall. He looked down to see the hardcover book at his feet, but he couldn't deal with it.   
  
He bolted, pushing past Hughes and out the door, only to find a group of cops in sharp blue uniforms standing in the hallway. They turned to look at him, their eyes hard, and as Neal ran for the men's room he heard one of them following behind him. He slammed the men's room door shut behind him, but there was no way to lock it. Nothing to keep anybody out. He hurried into a stall, latched that door behind him for what little protection it would give, and fell to his knees as he threw up into the toilet.   
  
He heard the main restroom door opening from the hall, and the knowledge that they'd found him made Neal gag again, but he had to hide. He squeezed himself into the space between the toilet and the wall and pulled his knees up against his aching stomach as he curled his arms over his head. He breathed raggedly, pulling in mouthfuls of air that smelled like vomit and chemicals, and he thought they would be able to find him by his breathing alone but he couldn't make it quiet. Couldn't stop breathing or he would only die sooner.  
  
He kept his eyes squeezed closed but he heard footsteps enter the room and something sliding on the floor, but then the footsteps disappeared. _One of them is waiting out there,_ he thought, _waiting for me to think it's safe to come out_ But Neal knew it wasn't safe. It was getting harder for him to breathe, and the darkness behind his eyes was starting to sparkle when he heard a voice say his name. It wasn't angry or taunting, it was calm and Neal didn't know why but he thought that maybe he didn't need to be afraid.  
  
"Neal, are you ill?"  
  
Neal didn't answer. He didn't know how to talk and breathe at the same time. His stomach hurt and his head hurt, and the only sound he could make was a moan as he exhaled.  
  
"I'm going to let myself in. I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
There wasn't anywhere to run, and as Neal watched the round latch on the door turned, and the door opened to reveal a man, Captain Hughes, standing there alone. "Jesus Christ," he said in a reassuringly dry voice. He leaned down and flushed the toilet then crouched down in front of Neal. "Come on, let me help you up out of there. I think you could breathe better if you had some space."  
  
Neal found he could breathe more easily already, as the pieces began to fall into place. The police car. The nightmare. The cops who were just standing around and only followed because he ran. "I'm sorry," he said between unsteady breaths.  
  
"Son, you don't need to apologize. Do you need a doctor?"  
  
Neal shuddered at the word 'son' and shook his head. "N-no." He took another couple of breaths and started to awkwardly push himself out of his spot on the floor. "Just--panic attack."  
  
"Or _something,_ " Hughes said, under his breath. He stood up then reached down to help Neal lever himself up, only to push him down to sit on the toilet seat. "Just lean forward for a minute and try to get your breath back. I don't want you to keel over and hurt yourself. Peter would never forgive me."  
  
"I'm okay." Neal felt shaky and exhausted and not entirely sure if he was processing everything right, but he was close enough that he was pretty sure he could hold it together. He thought about the cops in the hallway and looked up at Hughes. "Am I in trouble? The officers in uniform?"  
  
"Hell, no. One of their buddies was down in the ER from a minor incident, nothing connected to Peter, and they decided to come up and check on things. One of them is going to take the detective exam soon, and I think he's trying to get into my department. He came and told me that he thought you needed help. That's all."  
  
Neal nodded. "Okay, thanks. I really am sorry about this." Neal stood up and felt steady enough to walk to the sinks where he splashed some water on his face and swished some around to clean out his mouth.  
  
"You're not obligated to tell me anything, but I have to admit I'm curious about what just happened."  
  
Neal turned off the water and leaned his hip against the sink. His whole body felt like it was tense and twitching with the aftermath of his panic, but he forced himself to speak calmly, to give the bare bones of his story because he thought Hughes would be able to flesh it out from there. "My father was a cop. I ran away from home when I was 17. I had good reasons for doing that. I get...nervous around police sometimes."  
  
Hughes winced and shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that. You must be a pretty tough son of a bitch to have taken this long to crack after the kind of day you've had."  
  
Neal laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, right."  
  
"I meant what I said." Hughes looked at his watch. "Okay, it's almost six a.m. They'll probably let you see Peter briefly before the docs do their rounds. After that I'm taking you to the cafeteria for breakfast, and I don't want any arguments."  
  
"Six? How long did I sleep?"   
  
"Three hours or so. Now let's get the hell out of here."  
  
Neal was too drained to argue. The night nurse allowed him back to see Peter, but he hadn't even been there five minutes when he had to leave so that they could prepare for the doctors' rounds. He grabbed his phone, stuffed his things back in his bag and let Hughes lead him down to the first floor where the hospital cafeteria was just opening. Neal was still vaguely nauseated but he knew he wouldn't feel better without eating anything so he got toast, a yogurt and a cup of herbal tea and met Hughes who was sitting down with a large bowl of oatmeal.  
  
"I have to watch my cholesterol," he said flatly.  
  
Neal felt like he ought to make some kind of rejoinder but he didn't feel capable of finding the right words. He just nodded, and Hughes looked mildly disappointed but not quite surprised as he shrugged and began to eat his oatmeal. Neal worked his way through most of his breakfast, and he did feel better when he was done. "Thank you for this and for earlier."  
  
"We look out for our own. That's the way it works."  
  
"I've been wondering, and I don't mean this to be offensive or to stereotype, but I'm surprised there hasn't been a problem with Peter being gay--that the rest of the department supports him."  
  
Hugh tilted his head back and forth a little. "I wouldn't say that Peter hasn't had any problems due to his sexuality, but in my division that's not tolerated and people who can't live with it wash out and get transferred. There are some people in the PD who don't want anything to do with him or you, but they're not here. You don't need them. But there are two things going on in your and Peter's favor."  
  
"What two things?"  
  
"One, Peter's a damn good detective and a good man so people respect him. Two, he was shot on the job, and that takes precedence over just about anything else. And people think about if it were them, because it could be, how would they want their girlfriend treated or their spouse or their kid."  
  
"That's a little bit difficult to internalize, but I'm glad."  
  
They went back upstairs after that, and Neal was able to get to talk to Peter's doctor for a few minutes. He reported that Peter was doing well, that his vital signs were much stronger and that he thought the orthopedic surgeon would get Peter scheduled for the next morning. They were planning to keep Peter fully sedated until after his second surgery, since being awake and aware of the breathing tube and the pain in his arm would only endanger his recovery.   
  
It was difficult to think of Peter being unconscious for days, but the doctor stressed that they were keeping him that way for his own good. Peter was _capable_ of being conscious, and that was a good thing. Neal made notes, both for his own reference and so that he could pass on the information to Peter's mother and the rest of Peter's friends.  
  
After another hour, Diana arrived with Sue, and then Hughes left after speaking with Diana in private. Neal had a feeling that Diana was being instructed to keep an eye on him, and the idea made him squirm, but if he were in the captain's position he would be doing the same thing. The meltdown was embarrassing, but Neal felt lucky that that he hadn't done it in front of a room of cops and that the person who ended up having to deal with it hadn't been a stranger or somebody who would have made the situation worse. Hughes's matter of fact response was the best thing Neal could ask for, short of having it not happen in the first place.  
  
The decision was made that one person could be in Peter's room any time other than when the medical staff asked them to step out, and Neal and Sue rotated for most of the day, giving Diana and Peter's other close colleagues a chance to make short visits as well. Neal talked to Sara a few times, and she wanted to come check in with Neal but she was scrambling to cover his duties along with her own during the holidays when they had fewer people work and volunteering and more kids at loose ends. Neal was just glad she was managing to keep the doors open. El arrived as soon as she was able to get there from work, and she stayed with Peter while Neal and Sue went to get dinner.   
  
Sue convinced Neal to go home long enough to shower and change, and when he returned he was glad to be clean. Neal talked everybody else, one by one, into leaving for the night. Diana left first, after promising that she would be there to wait during Peter's second surgery the next day. Next, Neal saw Sue off in a cab back to June's. He really didn't want Peter to wake up to find that his mother had worn herself out and ended up in a hospital bed herself. Sue was healthy, but she was well over 70 and the stress of traveling and sitting with her injured son was difficult for her to deal with.  
  
El stayed the longest, and she gave Neal a long hug before leaving. "In case I haven't already said this, I really am glad Peter has you."  
  
"I'm glad I have him. And I'm glad that through him I got you. Thank you."  
  
El looked like she was about to cry, but she wiped the tears from under her lashes. "Aw, thank you! Okay, I have to get home or I'll be a zombie tomorrow and who wants to buy art from zombies? I'll see you as soon as I can get away tomorrow."  
  
"I'll call you."  
  
"You better!" El called over her shoulder as she hurried to the elevator.  
  
Neal spent the night in Peter's room, napping occasionally with his head against the wall. He held Peter's hand, touched his face, talked to him so that if he were aware on any level he would know that he wasn't alone and that somebody was waiting for him to come back. He just had to come back.  
  
In the morning, Peter was pronounced in good enough shape for his orthopedic surgery. Sue was able to spend an hour with him before Peter was taken away to be prepared for surgery, and then Sue, Diana and Neal all trooped down to the surgical waiting room.  
  
Neal forced himself through breakfast, and he was trying to do some more research about what kind of physical therapy Peter was likely to have to go through but the screen kept blurring and he didn't think it was his tablet's fault. "Damn it," he mumbled under his breath as he rubbed at his eyes.  
  
"Neal, did you get any sleep," Sue asked. She was spending most of her time on a crochet project, and Neal envied her the repetitive nature of her chosen distraction.  
  
"I slept last night." And he had, short periods of light sleep while he sat next to Peter. His body's last attempt at deep sleep had ended with a nightmare and a panic attack, so he wasn't eager to repeat that, and he couldn't stand the idea that something might go wrong with Peter while he was sleeping, that he'd never know until he woke up.  
  
"You look like hell," Diana said, diplomatic as ever. "Why don't you try to take a nap here?"  
  
"We'll wake you up if there's any news," Sue promised.  
  
Neal wanted to resist, but he didn't want the two women to keep worrying about him and he had to admit that his eyes were burning and his body was aching to be horizontal. "Okay, for a little while." Neal moved to an unoccupied stretch of seats and stretched out on his side. Closing his eyes was a relief, and it felt good to get a break from sitting upright, but turning off his brain wasn't an option. Neal drifted for a while, never quite falling asleep, and when restlessness and boredom overrode his exhaustion he sat up and stretched.  
  
"That was a short nap." Diana looked at him skeptically, and he didn't bother explaining that he hadn't slept.  
  
"I need to take a walk. I won't go far so call me the second you see the doctor. Okay?"  
  
"Get some air." Diana nodded. "It'll be fine."  
  
Neal checked that his phone had a charge and started toward the door before Sue called him back. "Don't forget your coat."  
  
Neal picked up his wool coat, nodded his thanks, and left. He had forgotten how cold it was outside, but as soon as he got near the doors in the lobby he realized that he truly did need his coat. Getting outside was a relief--fresh air and the dirty smells of the city instead of hospital antiseptics--and the wind whipped through his coat and clothes down to his skin, but he didn't mind. He wasn't getting in a police car or even a cab, he just wanted to move forward on his own two feet.   
  
He got to the corner and thought about going straight, just walking and walking and never coming back to everything that was so difficult, but that wasn't any kind of option. He turned to walk around the block and by the time he got back to the front of the hospital he was ready to go back inside, both to get out of the cold and wind and to be closer to where Peter was, even if he couldn't see Peter yet. He picked up snacks and drinks and headed back to the waiting room, where nothing had changed while he was gone.  
  
Eventually, the orthopedic surgeon came out to report that the surgery had gone well and that Peter would most likely be able to recover normal function in his arm. Neal didn't ask if the recovery would be full enough for him to be able to continue working as a detective, though he knew that would be one of Peter's concerns once he was awake. He just couldn't make himself care enough about that when Peter was still unconscious, still on a ventilator.  
  
They were allowed to visit Peter in the ICU again late that afternoon, and the doctor from the thoracic surgeon's service said that Peter was doing well enough that they would probably take out the ventilator the next morning and then begin to allow him to wake up. His lung would still need a lot of time to heal, but Peter should be able to breathe on his own with the help of some oxygen, and that was the best news Neal had heard in days.  
  
"I wouldn't expect very much alertness from Peter tomorrow, as he'll still be recovering from anesthesia and receiving quite a bit of pain medication, but I think he should wake up enough to tell you Happy New Year."  
  
Neal just wanted to see Peter open his eyes. "Wait, new year? What day is this?"  
  
"The 31st. New Year's Eve."  
  
Neal did the math in his head, and it added up but it was difficult to believe that the last days of the year had slipped away while he sat in hospital waiting rooms. While Sue sat with Peter, Neal went out into the hallway to call Elizabeth, who had promised to come after work and stay all evening.  
  
"Do you have good news for me?" She sounded like she was outside, probably had just left the gallery.  
  
"He's out of surgery and doing well. They're going to let him wake up a little bit tomorrow. Probably."  
  
"Oh my God, that's great! I'll be there soon." She sounded like she was getting ready to hang up.  
  
"Hold on. I may have lost track of the days, but I know Peter told me you had a date with Clinton for New Year's Eve."  
  
"I did, but I don't mind. He knows the situation."  
  
"Please go on your date. You deserve to have a good guy like him in your life, and if nothing else Peter will be happy to hear about your date when he's awake and bored."  
  
El didn't respond immediately, and when she did she sounded torn. "But I'm so worried about Peter."  
  
"I know you are. Come tomorrow afternoon once you recover from your night out."  
  
"O-okay. I guess I better call Clinton and see if he cancelled our reservations already."  
  
"Have fun."  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Hughes came back that evening and Neal took Sue home in a cab then showered and changed and walked back to the hospital through the gathering New Year's Eve traffic. When Neal got back to the ICU he found that Peter had been moved to a slightly larger cubicle with a reclining chair next to Peter's bed.  
  
Neal turned to ask the nurse, "Why was Peter moved?"  
  
She smiled then, though Neal hadn't found her to be particularly friendly before. "Somebody pulled some strings in the interest of giving you a chance to get some sleep since they can't pry you out of here. And besides, we like to take care of cops around here."  
  
"Thank you." Neal was certain that Hughes must have talked to somebody, and he was grateful because no amount of walking in the cold evening air was making his brain feel awake, and he thought his body might curl up and die after another night on a hard chair. He didn't want to sleep, didn't want to do anything other than sit and wait for Peter to wake up, but he was coming up hard on the limit of his endurance, and trying to sleep on a recliner was a better option than ending up with a headache that would make it impossible for him to be there for Peter.  
  
Neal wanted to be awake at midnight, but he knew the nurses would wake him at shift change, which was a few hours away. He talked to Peter for a couple of minutes, holding his hand and reminding him that he was loved, then curled up under the blanket that was folded on the recliner's seat and told himself it was okay to fall asleep. He was worried that he wouldn't be able to sleep or that he'd be woken by another nightmare, but he dropped off to sleep before his worries could go too far, and he woke when the nurse touched his shoulder.  
  
"We need you to give us a few minutes, honey."  
  
Neal nodded and collected himself enough to stand up and wander back out to the waiting room. The New Year's Eve broadcast was on the TV, though the volume was down to a murmur, and though the celebration was only a couple of miles away in midtown Neal felt like he was in another world entirely. By the time he was able to go back in to Peter's room, it was after 11:30, the year almost over.  
  
Neal was afraid he'd fall asleep if he sat back down so he paced the tiny room for a while then stood talking to Peter again while the last minutes of the year ticked by on his phone. Peter's mouth was blocked, distorted by the tube down his throat, but at the stroke of midnight Neal bent and awkwardly placed a gentle kiss at the edge of Peter's lips, the closest he could get to the real thing. "Happy New Year," he whispered, then pressed a stronger kiss to the back of Peter's hand before settling down in the recliner again.   
  
When he was kicked out of Peter's room for morning rounds, Neal went down to the cafeteria to get some food and coffee to wake himself up. The few hours of sleep Neal got in the earlier part of the evening had turned out to be enough to take the edge off of his exhaustion, and so he spent the rest of the night in the recliner, but sleep was intermittent, disrupted by the sounds around him and by the disquieting thoughts inside. The promise of Peter being able to wake up, to open his eyes and talk, was the only thing that made him feel better.  
  
By the time he got back to the waiting room, Sue was already there and she reported that the doctor had come to let her know they were going to begin the process of taking Peter off the ventilator. Neal wanted to be there but apparently it was against hospital policy so they were stuck on the outside again. Waiting, waiting. Sue crocheted and Neal tried to focus well enough to do some more research online. Diana arrived in the late morning, and soon after that a nurse came out to let them know that they could see Peter for a few minutes--Neal and Sue together if they wanted--but then they'd be transferring him up to a regular surgical floor.   
  
"That must mean he's doing well," Sue said, and Neal just nodded. "Oh, thank goodness," she said, and when she started to quietly cry Neal put his hand on her back until she wiped her eyes and stood up to go see Peter.  
  
Back in the ICU room that Neal hoped to never see again, Peter's eyes were closed and he still had a number of tubes and monitors connected to him but his mouth was closed normally, free from the intrusion of the breathing tube. Neal picked up Peter's hand, and he felt his breath catch in his chest as Peter's fingers moved to just barely tighten around his, and then Peter opened his eyes.  
  
"Hey," Neal said, and he felt tears behind his eyes as Peter's mouth turned up into a slight smile. Neal squeezed Peter's hand, and then Peter turned to look the other way as Sue touched her hand to his forehead. His eyes widened and he mouthed _mom_ though his throat was probably too sore for speaking.  
  
"It's about time you woke up, son," Sue said, her tone belying the stern words. "We've missed you."  
  
Peter looked back at Neal, his forehead wrinkling up between his eyebrows. "Rest," Neal said. Peter shook his head slightly and tightened his fingers around Neal's again, but the weight of the drugs and his injuries pulled him back down into sleep.  
  
As soon as they got out into the hallway, Sue pulled Neal into a hug. "He's going to be okay."  
  
Neal nodded and rested his head against hers for a moment before pulling away.  
  
She looked at him sharply. "How are you doing? You're very quiet, you know."  
  
Neal hadn't noticed, but he realized that she was right. He was strung out enough on exhaustion and stress that it was easier not to speak. "Sorry, I--I have trouble. Sometimes."  
  
"I see. That just means you need to take care of yourself."  
  
"I know. It's just--" Neal looked back at Peter's room and sighed.  
  
"I understand, but you've been seeing me home to that very nice bedroom every night, and I know I'm an old lady but I'm not the only person who needs to sleep."  
  
"I will. I promise."  
  
The wait to see Peter again was ameliorated by the fact that they got to relocate to a regular floor where more than one person would be able to be in Peter's room at a time. They had just finally been allowed to go back to the small private room where Peter would be staying when Neal heard a familiar voice from the doorway and turned around to see June standing there with a beautiful plant in hand.  
  
"June!''  
  
"Hello dear, I'm sorry it took me so long to get here." June squeezed Neal's arm then turned to greet Sue. "Mrs. Burke? I'm June Ellington, it's a pleasure to meet you."  
  
Sue looked slightly flustered for a moment by June's almost regal presence, but then she shook it off. "Please call me Sue. I can't thank you enough for letting me stay in your home."  
  
"It's the least I could do. You're welcome to stay as long as you like." June went over to say hello to Peter, who was just barely awake. Neal could barely take his eyes off of Peter, and as he watched Peter and June seemed to be having some kind of mostly silent conversation. "I'll take care of it, don't you worry," she said finally, then walked back over to stand in front of Neal, looking at him critically.  
  
"What?"  
  
"My dear, you look terrible. And you have quite literally said two words since I got here so I'm taking you home and keeping you there until tomorrow morning."  
  
Neal shook his head. His chest ached at the idea of being away from Peter for half a day. "No."  
  
June raised one elegant eyebrow. "That wasn't a very eloquent argument, dear. Now go say _au revoir_ and we'll be on our way. Peter will be well taken care of while you rest."  
  
Neal sighed and gave in. He stepped closer to the bed and looked into Peter's bleary but still worried eyes, then bent to give him a gentle kiss. "Sorry," Neal said.  
  
"Don't be," Peter rasped. He reached out and squeezed Neal's wrist then let go.  
  
Neal closed his eyes and took a breath then whispered, "love you," before allowing June to slip her arm through his and lead him out of the room. Somehow she had his coat, and he shrugged it on in the elevator. As they reached the main floor, June took Neal's arm again, and they walked out to where her driver had the Jaguar idling. The ride home passed quickly, and once they were inside June insisted on seeing him up to his rooms.  
  
"I'll be fine," he told her as he opened the door, expecting her to head back downstairs, but she walked in nonetheless. She told Neal to go wash up and change, and when he came out of the bathroom in his lounge pants and undershirt she gave him a bottle of water and two pills that he suspected were Advil PMs and walked him over to the bed.  
  
"I took your phone, so if anybody calls with a problem I'll answer and I'll come wake you up, but I don't think that's going to happen. Just sleep now, and in the morning we'll have breakfast before you go back to see Peter."  
  
Neal was too exhausted to argue so he just nodded and closed his eyes. He listened as June walked away and closed the door behind her. When he fell asleep the darkness was so heavy and so deep that he didn't wake until morning when the birds that congregated on the ledge of the terrace woke to begin another day of noisy work.   
  
As Neal got out of bed and got himself ready, he realized that he felt better than he had since before he found out Peter had been shot. Over breakfast with June and Sue, Neal asked about how Christmas had gone, both for June with her family and for Sue with Peter's sister and her family. Listening to their descriptions of food and presents and children and minor league family drama was an excellent distraction from thoughts of Peter and what his recovery might be like, and he even got some stories about Christmases when Peter had been a child. Neither of them asked about his own holidays growing up, and he was grateful for that.  
  
Sue had decided to go to church, so Neal went to the hospital alone, and as he went down the hall to Peter's room he saw Captain Hughes leaving. "Good morning," Neal said, trying not to feel awkward about the way Hughes had seen him a couple of days before.  
  
"Happy New Year," Hughes said, his voice as dry as usual, without pity, and Neal nodded his thanks.  
  
"Happy New Year to you too."   
  
Peter was alone in the room, and his eyes were closed when Neal entered but opened as Neal walked across the floor. "Hi. Good morning. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Better." Peter's voice sounded horrible, and he took a few sips from the cup of water on his bedside when Neal held it out to him. "Thanks. And you look a whole lot better."  
  
"I can't believe that you were barely conscious and still managing to conspire with June."  
  
Peter gave Neal a small smile. "I can't help--" Peter paused to take a breath. "--wanting to take care of you."  
  
Neal sighed and bent down to give Peter a light, lingering kiss. "It's the same for me."  
  
"I'm gonna fall asleep," Peter admitted slowly.  
  
"It's okay. You can sleep all you want as long as you wake up."  
  
~~~  
  
Neal stayed through the day, chatting with Peter and reading him newspaper articles when he was awake enough to listen and spending time with Sue while Peter slept. According to the doctor, Peter would be in the hospital for another five to seven days, and Neal was starting to understand that he would have to find a balance between being there for Peter and taking care of himself and the rest of his life. He was still worried, terribly worried, that Peter would get an infection from one of his surgeries or pneumonia from the lung injury and his time on the ventilator but so far Peter was doing well.   
  
The hospital staff made Peter get out of bed in order to reduce the risk of pneumonia and blood clots, and while it hurt to watch Peter wavering in his hospital gown and stockings, taking the few steps to a chair with his jaw clenched tight against pain, Neal felt relieved to see Peter up and moving at all. He saw the same mixture of worry and relief on Sue's face, too.  
  
Neal stayed until late in the evening, after Sue had gone back to June's for the day and the rest of Peter's visitors had come and gone, then climbed up on the end of the bed and put Peter's feet in his lap. Peter was in one of his more awake phases, and he looked troubled so Neal lightly rubbed Peter's feet as he asked, "What are you thinking about?"  
  
Peter sighed then winced. "I'm sorry to be putting you through this. And my mother, too."  
  
"Your mom is okay, and so am I. We'll both be better when you're at home."  
  
"I'm still sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault. You were doing your job and somebody decided to try and stop you."  
  
"Yeah. I don't know." Peter looked away, and Neal hoped it was the drugs making him so uncharacteristically melancholy. "Hughes told me what happened with you."  
  
"Damn." Neal had hoped the captain would keep it to himself, but he wasn't surprised that it hadn't gone that way. "I lost it for a minute, but I'm okay. And Hughes really took it all in stride. I was--" Neal cast about for the right word. "Grateful."  
  
"I wonder if it's too much, too much that you should have to be in this world of cops after everything you've been through."  
  
Neal froze in place and kept his voice very carefully neutral as he asked, "Are you saying you don't want to be with me? Because I'm too damaged?"  
  
"No!" Peter tried to sit up but ended up back on the bed hissing with pain.  
  
"Hey, hey, stop. Do you need the nurse?"  
  
"No." Peter closed his eyes and took several steadying breaths then used the bed controls to tilt himself up far enough that they could make eye contact. "Listen, I want to be with you more than anything else other than maybe getting out of this bed and back on my own two feet. I love you, and I can't stand that it's hurting you to be with me."  
  
Neal relaxed and gently squeezed the feet in his lap. "It's not hurting me to be with you, not even close. I lost it for a few minutes because I was exhausted and strung out on worry and too much caffeine--I know, I know--and because after holding it together through some situations that I never thought I would be able to handle I had a pretty bad nightmare and woke up in a strange place. That's a combination of stressors that I don't expect to see recreated soon."  
  
Peter frowned. "What kind of situations are we talking about?"  
  
"Spending hours in rooms full of cops with uniforms and badges and gun--cops who were all nothing but decent to me by the way. Riding in a police car, twice. It wasn't fun, but I survived it and now I know I could do it again."  
  
"Sweetheart." Peter shook his head and looked away. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."  
  
"No. I don't regret it because being with you isn't hurting me. It's helping me heal. Can you understand that?"  
  
Peter looked back at Neal, but his eyes were drooping closed. "I can try," he said slowly.  
  
"Okay. Now sleep, and I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Peter gave Neal a small smile as he drifted off to sleep.  
  
~~~  
  
The next day, Peter's sister drove in to the city to visit Peter and to take Sue home. June had assured Sue that she was welcome to stay as long as she wanted and Sue was clearly reluctant to leave, but she had commitments at home and Peter convinced her that he would be fine. He promised to come up to visit as soon as possible, though the belated-Christmas trip that had been planned for mid-January wasn't going to happen.   
  
"My next goal is to get you to go back to work tomorrow," Peter said after Cindy and Sue had gone.  
  
"You really want to be here all day by yourself?"  
  
"No, but I won't be. You'll visit, Diana and El will visit, and they're going to have me pretty busy with the physical therapy and respiratory therapy. And you need to get back to your own work."  
  
"I don't know. I'll worry about you."  
  
"I do have my phone." Peter picked up his cell phone from the bedside table and waved it around then put it down so he could scratch at his left arm, which was in a cast now that the surgical site had healed well enough to be covered.  
  
That afternoon, Neal was back in Peter's room after having been kicked out during his respiratory therapy session and Peter was just waking up from a nap when they heard a knock at the door. Sara walked in tentatively, and behind her were three kids who were taking part in Peter and Diana's fledgling sports program. Reggie, Michael and Ana all looked nervous but as Sara ushered them inside Neal saw they were carrying a rolled up length of poster paper and a bunch of balloons.  
  
"Hey!" Peter said as he hurried to adjust the bed to let him sit up further. "Hey you guys."  
  
"A little birdie told me that this would be a good time to visit," Sara said.  
  
Peter looked at Neal, who shrugged. "I'm not the birdie. Must be Diana."  
  
"The kids have been missing both of you, and a bunch of them wanted to do something for Peter so I thought I should let them send representatives to visit you."  
  
The kids were shifting uneasily on their feet, but Reggie spoke up, holding out the balloons. "We thought maybe your room could use some cheering up."  
  
Peter's room wasn't bare of decorations; he had get well cards from friends and coworkers, flowers from his sister and the plant from June, but the balloons brought a new brightness to the room, and Neal could see that Peter was touched that the kids had thought about him.  
  
"And we made a poster," Michael said. He and Ana unrolled it and taped it to a blank expanse of wall across from Peter's bed. The poster read _WE ♥ U PETER_ in large bubble-style letters, and the letters themselves were filled in with a mix of drawings in styles that Neal recognized as belonging to several of the teens who took part in the programs at Ellen's Place. There were signatures all around the outside of the words, and when Neal looked back at Peter he had his jaw locked tight and tears in his eyes.  
  
"This is great," Neal said, drawing the kids over to look at the poster with him to give Peter time to compose himself. "Wow, you all really put a lot of work into this. I'm impressed."  
  
Ana shrugged. "We don't have as much to do without you guys there. Nobody likes it when you're gone, Neal." Ana looked up at Neal through her heavy bangs, and Neal remembered that she'd been around long enough to remember when Neal had been away from Ellen's Place for so long after his injury.  
  
"I don't like being gone either. In fact, I'll be back tomorrow, though I might not be there the whole day."  
  
"Kids," Peter said, and Neal turned to see that he was more clear-eyed now. "Thank you for this. I miss all of you and I'll be back in action as soon as I can be."  
  
"As soon as he's allowed to be," Neal corrected, and Peter mock-glared at him.  
  
Neal went out in the hallway to discuss business with Sara while the kids clustered around Peter's bed, and when they all left Peter looked ready to pass out but also happier than Neal had seen him since he woke. "That was really nice of them," Peter said. He started to look overwhelmed again and sniffled then gave Neal a sleepy smirk. "And you're going back to work, so I win."  
  
"You win," Neal agreed. Right then, he didn't care if Peter won every argument as long as he was there to keep arguing.  
  
~~~  
  
Four days later, on the eve of Peter's discharge, Neal announced his intention to move in with Peter for the duration of his recovery.  
  
"If we're going to move in together shouldn't I get the chance to invite you? Maybe give you a key in a box or something?"  
  
"This is just temporary. I would ask you to come stay with me, but your building has the elevator and better parking."  
  
"But you like being closer to Ellen's Place."  
  
"It doesn't take that long on the subway."  
  
Peter sighed. "I just don't want you to be my nurse, okay?"  
  
"I won't be. You'll have the home health nurse coming by to check on you for the next week or so, and I'll still be going to work unless something happens and you need me." Neal perched on the side of Peter's bed. "I don't like the thought of you being by yourself all night, and you know the doctor said it would be better for somebody to be around for the first week."  
  
"So you're just going to stay with me for a week?"  
  
"We'll see." Neal gave Peter one of his most ostentatiously charming smiles and bent down to give him a kiss. He still had to be careful to keep his weight off of Peter's chest, but Peter was free of the IVs and the oxygen and the drain in his chest. He was recovering, and Neal put his love and relief into the kiss he shared with Peter, moving his tongue slowly against Peter's, feeling Peter's breath on his skin. It had been too long, and he never wanted to go without that feeling again.  
  
~~~  
  
Peter was discharged the next morning with a list of instructions, half a dozen prescriptions called in to the pharmacy near his apartment, and more follow-up appointments than Neal wanted to think about. He suspected that within a week Peter was going to be chafing against the restrictions on him, but for now just getting dressed and making it through the cab ride home and the slow walk inside and down the hall from the elevator was enough to tire him out. Neal helped him straight to the bedroom and got him situated with his casted arm propped on a pillow and other pillows propping him up to take the strain off of his cracked ribs.  
  
Peter stripped down to his boxers and got under the covers with a contented sigh. "I've missed this bed," he said.  
  
"I've missed your bed too. And you in my bed." Neal yawned and failed to cover it. He'd stayed up late the night before, moving some of his clothes and things into Peter's apartment then shopping for groceries and cleaning out the food that had gone bad in Peter's fridge.  
  
"Are you going in to work?"  
  
"Not today. Today I want to spend with you, though I do have to go get your prescriptions."  
  
"That can wait a little while. Rest with me?" Peter pulled back the covers next to his good side, and Neal couldn't resist. He undressed and climbed under the covers then carefully moved over to stretch out along Peter's side. He hooked one leg over Peter's, rested his hand lightly on the uninjured side of Peter's chest, and put his head half on the pillow, half on Peter's shoulder. The touch of skin to skin was comforting, intoxicating. Neal moved his leg to slide to slide his foot up to Peter's knee and back down. "Mmm, that feels good," Peter said.  
  
Neal moved his hand on Peter's chest and inadvertently brushed his fingers against one of the healing incisions. He winced and jerked his hand away. "Sorry!"  
  
"Do you want me to put a shirt on? I know it looks awful."  
  
"It doesn't. Nothing about you looks awful."  
  
"Mmm. Maybe." Peter sounded half asleep, and Neal wasn't ready to fall asleep himself but he was happy resting there with Peter, feeling his strength and his warmth and his heartbeat right where he needed it. Later, when Peter was sleeping soundly, Neal slipped out of the bed and got dressed again then ran down the street to pick up Peter's prescriptions as well as a few over-the-counter things the discharge instructions had suggested. Back at the apartment, he sent texts to let their friends know that Peter was home and doing well, that the evening's plan would go forward. He pulled out the bag of decorations El had bought and went around the living room hanging them up, along with the poster the kids had made for Peter. The flowers Peter received had wilted and the balloons shriveled but Neal had a feeling Peter would keep that poster forever.   
  
For now, it was masking taped to the wall, sharing space with New Year's Eve decorations El had picked up on clearance after the first of the year. Neal went down the hall to El's apartment and found that she and Clinton were there, joined at the hip and excessively cute, along with Diana and Christie who were sipping wine on El's couch.   
  
El met him at the door and pulled him in for a quick hug. "Hi! How's the man of the hour?"  
  
"He's resting, but I'm going to wake him up. Can you give us maybe twenty minutes then come over and wait in the living room?"  
  
"Of course! We'll bring everything over and wait."  
  
"Okay, thanks."  
  
Back in Peter's bedroom, Neal sat down next to Peter's hip and woke him up. "Hey, naptime is over."  
  
"Mmm. Help me up?"  
  
"I live to serve." Neal put his arm behind Peter's back and helped him sit up without stressing his ribs or incisions then helped him wash up in the bathroom and gave him his pills. "I'm sure you're tired of wearing nothing but hospital gowns and PJs. Do you want to put on some real clothes for a while?"  
  
"Sure," Peter said slowly. "Is there some other reason?"  
  
"Like what?" Neal pulled out one of Peter's favorite old, soft jeans and a t-shirt that would fit over his cast then helped Peter get dressed.  
  
"I may be injured and drugged, but I'm still a detective," Peter said, a hint of his playful growl in the words.  
  
"I guess that's true." Neal put a hand on Peter's back to steady him as they walked out of the bedroom and Peter laughed at the sight of their four friends standing around in the living room with a fruit tray and a tray of little sandwiches along with champagne and sparkling cider chilling on ice.  
  
"Happy New Year!" they all said, and Peter shook his head with a bemused smile.  
  
"I think we missed that by about a week."  
  
El walked over with a glass of champagne for Neal and cider for Peter, then gave Peter a peck on the cheek. "It wasn't really a happy new year until you got home. Now that you're here, I'm going to take being your pesky neighbor to new highs." She winked.  
  
"When you're not busy with Clinton Jones, that is?"  
  
Jones came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "I owe you one, Peter," he said, and El lightly smacked him on the arm.  
  
Peter laughed and gave them a fond smile then went to sit next to Diana. Neal fell into a discussion with Christie, but he kept an eye on Peter and Diana, who seemed to be having a far more serious conversation than Peter and El's had been. "Do you know what's going on there?"  
  
Christie shrugged. "She's angry about what happened to Peter. Not at him, and not really at herself, I don't think. She won't really talk about it though."  
  
"I think I'm too glad to have him home and alive to be angry, even at the guy who shot him. I'm glad the guy was a bad shot."  
  
Christie just nodded and looked back at Peter and Diana.  
  
The mood of the evening lightened again when El pulled up the Times Square New Year's Eve show on YouTube and they all counted down to midnight, even though it was only 6pm, even though they were a week into January. It was a new start, and that's what mattered to Neal. Soon enough, Peter began to get visibly tired and everybody quietly left.   
  
Neal sat down on the couch next to Peter and stretched out his legs. "Can I ask what was going on with you and Diana earlier? Is something wrong?"  
  
Peter sighed. "It's just the way the whole thing went down. Diana's pissed, and I just--I don't know. I don't think I have the energy to be angry right now."  
  
"What do you mean about the way it went down?"  
  
"The situation shouldn't have escalated the way it did. We had a plan to go in, nice and civil, and make our arrest, but we were working with another team and they had to run in there with riot gear and set the whole thing off into gunfire."  
  
Neal squeezed Peter's arm and swallowed hard at the mental image.  
  
"Sometimes," Peter said quietly, "I wonder what I'm doing. I joined the police department to work for justice and to protect the public, and some days I feel like I took a wrong turn and ended up in the military. I still believe in those ideals that pushed me toward becoming a detective rather than being an accountant behind a desk somewhere, and there are so many good people in the department, but every year there's more riot gear and I don't know what can be next other than tanks."  
  
"You've been worried about this for a while."  
  
"Yeah," Peter admitted.  
  
"And you never said anything to me even though I talk about my work all the time." It hurt in a contrary way, the pains Peter took to avoid upsetting him.  
  
"I can't--"  
  
"You can. When you go back to work, I want you to talk to me, and if it's too much I'll tell you. I'm not going to let you keep it all to yourself anymore."  
  
"I--" Peter swallowed hard and looked down at his hand in his lap, and Neal reached out to pull that hand closer to him. "I don't know if I want to go back. I remember the moment of realizing that everything had gone wrong, and I remember getting shot. It was a one-two punch, and I went down."  
  
"Peter," Neal whispered, horrified.  
  
"I thought I was dying, everything was going dark around me, and all I could think was that it was for nothing." Peter's voice caught, and he closed his eyes as he took a steadying breath. He pressed his lips together then looked at Neal with weary eyes. "I don't want to die for nothing."  
  
"I don't want you to die at all." Neal's throat ached at the memory of how close Peter had come.  
  
"I'm not in any hurry, believe me, but it pisses me off that I came so close to leaving everything over an agenda I don't even support. I don't know if I can do it again."  
  
Neal squeezed Peter's hand. "You don't need to be worrying about this right now. You have at least a few weeks before you can go back on desk duty."  
  
"Yeah, and doesn't that sound like fun? But you're right, I have some time to make my decisions." Peter nodded, and he looked done in. The time for further serious conversation would come another day.  
  
"Well, the only decision you have to make right now is if you want to watch TV in here for a while or just go to bed."  
  
"Are you ready to go to bed?"  
  
"No. I need to do some work on my laptop, actually."   
  
"Then I'll stay here with you, because I think I'm tired enough that I can sleep anywhere."  
  
"That sounds good to me." Neal situated himself with his laptop on his knees and his shoulder leaning into Peter's. He turned on the TV to a news channel, but less than two commercials later he felt Peter leaning more heavily against him and Peter's slow, even breathing close to his ear. _Happy New Year_ , he thought, and strangely enough it was.

**Author's Note:**

> No major warnings apply however a number of potentially triggery issues are included/discussed: child abuse (non sexual), other violence and injury, homophobia, illness and death (not of major characters), and mental health issues


End file.
